


why do i feel like it’s (fake) love

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brazil, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Sharing a Bed, and he doesn't even use it, no beta we die like shouyou's lack of romantic braincells, or; how many tropes can i fit into this before it's obnoxiously self indulgent, shouyou dedicates so many braincells to volleyball that he has exactly one left for romance, the answer is Many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kageyama [21:29]:getting on the plane soon.Me [21:32]:Tell me when u land!See u when u get here :DKageyama [21:34]:yeah.Now Shouyou just has to get the house ready for a giant of a setter from his volleyball past who’s supposed to pretend to be his boyfriend.This might be the stupidest thing Shouyou has ever tried to pull off.[Or; Shouyou forgets that communication is a double-sided coin.]
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65
Collections: Kagehina Exchange





	why do i feel like it’s (fake) love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bubbleguchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleguchi/gifts).



> title from 'business in fake love' by marcus skeen, but the vibe of the song has nothing to do with the fic, i just think the lyric is fitting HGDLSKFJ

“Hey, Shou, when are we ever gonna meet this boyfriend of yours?”

“Ah,” Shouyou says aloud, nearly bumping the volleyball he’s fiddling with out of control. He doesn’t though, catching it on his wrist to bring it back into his hands. He’s still trying not to slip in the sand like an unbalanced toddler. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, you’ve brought him up once or twice. The setter guy from your high school.”

Shouyou blinks. “…Kageyama?”

Heitor snaps his fingers. “Yeah yeah, him.”

For one, Kageyama is not his boyfriend. Shouyou has not  _ seen _ Kageyama in person for nearly two years. Kageyama has never shown any interest in dating, even when the girls began lining up to send him confessions in their third year. Kageyama might not even be gay. And further still, that doesn’t mean Shouyou has any feelings for Kageyama.  _ Absolutely not. _ His enemy turned friendly rival is just that: a friendly rival. Nothing more, nothing less.

So really, he has no right to even begin to imply that Kageyama is his boyfriend.

And yet.

“Um, he’s supposed to visit soon? Said he wanted to see what it’s like playing on the beach.”

“And to see you?”

“Yeah,” Shouyou says far too quickly, feeling heat flush his cheeks and forcing a grin as though he isn’t lying through his teeth. The part about Kageyama wanting to play on the sand like Shouyou has been for the last year and a half is true, but he is  _ definitely not  _ dating him. “Yeah—yeah, that too.”

“When he’s here, bring him out! I want to meet this man,” Heitor says, a smile splitting his face. “I’m also curious to see how he’ll do when he first gets on the sand.”

Shouyou nods furiously. That’s something that he always wanted to see—Kageyama slipping in the unforgiving sand and falling flat on his face. Of course, Shouyou has always been a lot clumsier than Kageyama, or he used to be because sand does wonders for balance, but Shouyou thinks that even he will lose his footing and eat shit. “Will do!” he exclaims, spinning his volleyball on the tip of his finger.

When he gets back to his flat, where Pedro is sitting on their coach listening to music and reading a manga volume, Shouyou freezes in the hallway. If Kageyama arrives in Brazil and Heitor still thinks they’re dating… 

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to have to admit to Heitor that he lied about their relationship, but he also doesn’t want to have to ask Kageyama to pretend to be his boyfriend.

Really, this sounds so stupid. This is a stupid situation.

If he were to weigh his choices, Shouyou thinks his best chance is to simply bring this up with Kageyama and see what happens. Kageyama is used to stupid antics that Shouyou is so prone to falling into, this really doesn’t seem all that different. It’s just one week that Kageyama is visiting, it wouldn’t be hard to pretend that they’re dating.

Except it  _ is. _

It’s not just anyone Shouyou would be pretending to date. It’s because it’s  _ Kageyama _ that Shouyou doesn’t want any of this to go wrong. He doesn’t want to look dumb, and he certainly doesn’t want to be seen as a liar for something as small as this.

Because it’s  _ Kageyama, _ he doesn’t want to mess anything up with him above all else.

Ignoring the sand that’s undoubtedly in his clothes, he drops onto his bed, resting his elbows on his knees. He already needs to call Kageyama just to check in on how he’s doing, preparing to travel across the world.

It’s been hard, not being able to frequently call his friends back in Japan simply because of the sheer time differences. Rio is twelve hours behind Japan, and it’s just hard trying to catch his friends before they’re asleep or before he himself is asleep.

But considering that it’s rather late for him, it won’t be too early in the morning for Kageyama to answer a phone call.

He tries his contact, letting the phone ring before it goes to voicemail. It’s not all that surprising that he hasn’t gotten an answer since it  _ is _ barely 8:30 in the morning in Japan. Shouyou tries not to let his nerves get the best of him,  _ because it’s Kageyama, _ and he puts his things in their places while he waits for a call back. Or a simple text message, Shouyou thinks that that might be easier to handle.

He’s puttering about in the kitchen when his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

**Incoming Call: Kageyama**

Well, seems like he won’t be getting the easy way out.

“Hey,” Shouyou says, closing one of the cabinets.

_ “Hey,”  _ Kageyama returns, and it sounds like he’s moving things around with his hands in the background.

“Are you ready to spend a full week trapped with me?”

Kageyama doesn’t answer right away. Shouyou can hear more movement through his phone’s speaker and can pick out a few voices. He recognizes Hoshiumi, the high and loud hollering of excitement; Kageyama must have just finished an early practice. 

_ “Yeah, see you—I’ve been ready for a couple of days now,” _ Kageyama says then.  _ “Can’t believe I’m willingly subjecting myself to your dumb ass.” _

“You brought up the idea of coming to Brazil yourself, Bakageyama! I didn’t say anything.”

The man hums, but he doesn’t deny it.  _ “Why’d you call? Did you need anything?” _

Shouyou huffs before swallowing around the knot that takes root in his throat. Sure, he needs something. It’s certainly not a conventional thing, though. Why did he think this was going to be a good idea? (Honestly, Shouyou didn’t. But apparently he didn’t have the sense to drop it and come clean before sending himself down the deep end.) “Can’t a man check in on his soon-to-be guest? What kind of host do you take me for?”

_ “A shitty one.” _

“You aren’t even here to judge that properly yet.” 

_ “I’ve spent time in your house before, Hinata.” _

“And?”

_ “You sucked at playing host.” _

“Did not.”

_ “Did too.” _

“Did not.”

_ “Did too.” _

“Did not.”

_ “Did—” _

_ “Fine.  _ But I’m not a bad host now! I’m checking in on you and making sure you’re ready to spend time somewhere you’ve never been before.”

_ “Mhm. Well, thanks for checking in, I suppose. I’m doing fine.” _

“You’re welcome, Kageyama-kun.”

Shouyou doesn’t have anything else to say, except for the very important thing that he’d actually called to address. 

_ “I’ve got to get going,”  _ Kageyama says, completely blessedly unaware of Shouyou’s dilemma.  _ “I’ll see you when I land in a couple of days, so just text me if there are any updates or anything that I need to know—” _

“Wait—Kageyama!” Shouyou shouts into the phone before he can back himself out of it.

The man stops on the other end. He sighs, though it doesn’t sound that annoyed.

“I, uh—well, I might have said something to my friends here about us and I kind of need your help. Before you hang up.”

Shouyou’s not sure what to think when Kageyama doesn’t answer him for a while. He’s prepared to stumble over his words and backtrack when Kageyama asks,  _ “What did you tell them.” _

It sounds more like a statement than a question, and Shouyou is so thankful that he knows Kageyama better than the average person. The measured voice and lack of inflection is simply caution.

“I may—uh, I may have implied we were dating.”

More silence. This time is more understandable, seeing as Shouyou certainly dropped something of a bombshell over the man’s head from the other side of the world.

_ “Why did—why would you imply that?” _

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Shouyou insists, flailing his free hand about. “My team partner just assumed we were dating because I’d brought you up a couple of times in the past and I didn’t outright deny it!”

Faintly, he can hear Kageyama sigh again, the sound made staticky through the phone. He doesn’t answer him for a time, the only noise coming through the line in response is a very soft shuffling.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to do anything about this, we don’t have to pretend anything either—you can just visit and enjoy your trip like normal. It was dumb of me to even lie about us and our—our relationship—”

_ “So you want to pretend we’re dating.” _

Shouyou’s mouth snaps shut. He nods vigorously before he remembers that Kageyama can’t see him. “Yeah, that was… that was the original plan. But again, you can just ignore people who ask about us, especially since they all speak Portuguese, it’d be easy to ignore because you wouldn’t understand them—”

_ “I’ll do it.” _

Shouyou stops. “You’ll—you’ll do it?”

He hears something that sounds like grumbling on the other end.  _ “Yeah, dumbass. I said I’ll do it. It’s just the week that I’m there, right? It’s not that big of a deal.” _

Shouyou exhales a breath. “Are you sure?” 

_ “Yes, idiot. I said I’d do it, didn’t I? It’s fine.” _

“Okay! Okay. Thanks Kageyama!”

_ “Don’t think too much of it, dumbass.” _

“I won’t I won’t. We can figure out the details later after you get home!”

Kageyama hums, though it sounds a lot more like a grunt.  _ “I’ll text you.” _

“Okay! Talk to you later, Yama-yama.”

That. Went a lot smoother than Shouyou thought it would.

Kageyama didn’t seem all that put off either, just surprised by the ordeal. If Shouyou’s being honest, he was expecting it to feel like he was fighting to pull out teeth.

But Kageyama agreed. All they need now is to set boundaries for when Kageyama arrives in a few days. Shouyou bounces in place on his bed, jittery with a different kind of excitement. It’s been ages since he’s been able to pester Kageyama, poking him and jabbing him and running away right when he’s about to strike. 

Kageyama has always been there, all awkward smiles and watchful eyes. 

He’s missed it. 

He’s missed Kageyama.

Then Shouyou blinks. Oh.

_ Oh. _

He’s going to be pretending to  _ date _ Kageyama. For one week. Which means they’ll have to do stuff like hold hands to keep up appearances. Maybe even call each other by their first name. 

_ Oh no. _

He is so absolutely, awfully, horribly  _ fucked. _

—

Okay, maybe he’s not really  _ that _ fucked.

Kageyama’s flight is taking off tonight for a full day trip, and things have been going okay in preparation over the last week, Shouyou has to admit. Pedro has taken a liking to teasing him about Kageyama, his  _ boyfriend, _ and normally Shouyou would take it in stride, shoot some retorts back.

Except it’s Kageyama he’s talking about. That throws a few wrenches into the fun of it.

Really, the only thing he’s struggling with at the moment is not giving up the secret before it’s even come to begin.

Shouyou sighs as he drops his bag on the floor. 

“I am so dumb,” he says to no one in particular. “Pedro’s gonna be so much worse when Kageyama’s actually here.”

He freezes in place when he’s about to head towards the bathroom. “When Kageyama’s here.  _ Shit.” _

Kageyama needs somewhere to sleep. The couch they have isn’t very big and Shouyou himself wouldn’t want to sleep on it unless he absolutely had to. He’d rather not cripple Kageyama’s neck or his back by making him squeeze onto that thing.

That’s truly, honestly the only reason why he’s worrying about it. He’s not at all thinking about what it would be like to share a space with Kageyama again just like they had done when they were sixteen and going to Nationals. He does not think about what it would be like to share a bed. That’s silly, why would he be thinking about that?

Before he can fall into a fantasy he hasn’t humored for at least a year, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens his texts with Kageyama.

**Me [20:42]:** **  
** I just remembered

Pedro and I don’t have a guest room so

I mean u can sleep on the couch but that thing is god awful to sleep on so I’d rather u didn’t

Felt like I broke my neck after falling asleep on it when I first got here

So unless u wanna be crippled we gotta share my room

**Kageyama [20:56]:**   
that’s fine.

**Me [20:58]:**   
And we don’t have futons like Japan does

So we have to share my bed

Or! I can just sleep on the floor! That’s fine with me!

**Kageyama [21:03]:**   
ah.

so long as it’s not as tiny as you are.

but i’m not going to make you sleep on the floor in your own place, idiot.

**Me [21:07]:**   
Oi!! Hold on a second, backtrack!! I’m not that small anymore!!! >:(

**Kageyama [21:09]:**   
debatable.

**Me [21:10]:**   
Rude!!

Shouyou huffs, pushing his lip forward in a pout even though he knows that Kageyama can’t see him. He smiles then, a giddy sort of fluttering sprouting in his chest. He missed this, talking with Kageyama, bickering with him over the most mundane things.

When he doesn’t get another response, he moves to finish putting some of his things away. He grabs a towel, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and his phone before he slips into the bathroom. Shouyou hears a notification chime from his phone on the counter as he’s turning on the water.

**Kageyama [21:29]:**   
getting on the plane soon.

**Me [21:32]:**   
Tell me when u land!

See u when u get here :D

**Kageyama [21:34]:**   
yeah.

Now Shouyou just has to get the house ready for a giant of a setter from his volleyball past who’s supposed to pretend to be his boyfriend.

This might be the stupidest thing Shouyou has ever tried to pull off. 

The rest of his night isn’t spent doing much of anything new. He finally takes off his sandy clothes and hops into the shower before it gets any later, and settles down into bed. Kageyama’s flight isn’t supposed to land until the next night, so he has plenty of time to kill by himself. Might as well rest up.

Not to mention that, since he’s leaving at around 22:00, Shouyou needs to be at the airport anytime between midnight and one in the morning.  _ Exciting. _

For all the energy buzzing beneath his skin, Shouyou falls asleep relatively quickly, waking up with the sun as usual. The sun is bright along the horizon

He takes off towards the beach once more to work out his extra energy on the sand. As usual, there’s someone willing to play with Shouyou, and the hours go by seamlessly. He doesn’t focus on the time between now and when Kageyama is supposed to land in Rio de Janeiro.

Shouyou is actually thankful that the day seems to pass by in a blur, because before he knows it, he’s showering again to rid himself of sand and gravel and heading off towards the airport to wait for Kageyama.

He’s a bit early, the clock on his phone reading 23:52, but he’d rather be the one waiting instead of Kageyama. The idiot doesn’t know Portuguese like Shouyou does.

Shouyou fiddles on his phone, watching a few volleyball clips from recent games.

(Tsukishima played a game just last week, and he played really well, shutting out a decent portion of the opposing team’s attacks. Shouyou still hates to admit that Tsukishima is one of the best blockers he’s ever played with, even if the man’s not here to give him shit for his pride.)

It’s when he’s in the middle of watching a clip of Oikawa’s serve (still as wildly difficult to pick up, but now it looks even  _ harder _ —Shouyou wants to try to dig it so badly) that he gets a text message.

**Kageyama [00:23]:**   
landed. i’m picking up my suitcase now.

**Me [00:24]:**   
Okay!! I’m here waiting :)

Shouyou grins.  _ He’s so close. So so close. _

He shoots up from the bench he’d planted himself on and starts walking towards the entrance gates.

It takes a few minutes before a crowd of passengers starts filing through with their luggage—Shouyou understands that luggage pick-up can be a nightmare, though, so he stands politely and as still as he can. 

Then Shouyou catches sight of Kageyama in the sea of incoming people, and his breath catches in his throat. Kageyama’s shoulders have broadened, wrapped in a light blue jacket; his long legs are covered in joggers, a high-quality athletic material that Shouyou can see despite the distance between them.

He’s changed his hair again, no longer choppy and self-cut like it had been in their third-year, but rather slick with a middle part. Kageyama’s eyes are easier to see now, without the raven curtain for him to glower behind.

He’s  _ gorgeous. _

And he corrects himself: Shouyou is one-hundred percent so,  _ so _ fucked.

(The only thing stopping him from throwing himself at Kageyama and hugging him stupid, among other things, is self-awareness.)

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he plasters a grin on his face and waves his arms over his head.  _ “Kageyamaaaaaaa!” _

Kageyama’s head snaps towards him, eyes scanning for him before they connect with Shouyou’s. Even from this distance, Shouyou can see the man’s eyes widen and the perpetual furrowed brow and pout combo flatten into surprise. He begins to stride over, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and rolling his suitcase behind him. “Hey,” he says in acknowledgment.

“Kageyama!” Shouyou calls again, now bouncing on his feet in excitement. It’s been so long since he’s heard his voice in person, and it’s just as low and smooth as he remembers it. Slightly older, Shouyou can tell, but it suits him. God, did he miss Kageyama’s voice, even when it was shouting at him.

“Stop yelling, dumbass, it’s the middle of the night. I’m right here.”

Shouyou huffs, frowning. “I haven’t seen you in like, a year and a half and this is how you greet me? I’m hurt, Yamayama-kun.”

Kageyama looks stiff, body straight and even taller than he’d been before Shouyou left for Rio. His lips are twisted back into a pout, the kind that means he’s thinking particularly hard about something. The habit had only increased with frequency and intensity when they were teenagers, and Shouyou’s starting to realize that Kageyama really didn’t change all that much; grew into himself, more like.

So he knows, of course, that Kageyama’s thinking about the act that they’ve set up for the duration of his visit. “It’s just us right now, you don’t have to pretend anything.”

That seems to placate him a little bit, shoulders lowering. “Idiot.”

“Oi, I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“I’m tired,” Kageyama says unceremoniously, ignoring him entirely.  _ Rude.  _

Shouyou sighs loudly. “You just jumped, like, twelve time zones, Bakageyama, of course you’re tired.”

“Jet lag fucking sucks.”

“Well, lucky for you, I predicted you’d be feeling like this so I didn’t plan anything for tomorrow! We’re just going to go back to where I live and you can take a nap.”

Kageyama doesn’t grant him a response, just a discontented grumble.

“It’s not that far, Yama-yama. We can figure out food after you sleep.” Without thinking, Shouyou latches on to Kageyama’s free hand, tugging him on through the airport building. It’s not that far of a trip back to his apartment, thankfully, but Shouyou knows it’s better to move around after a flight.

On the way, Shouyou points out his favorite spots that he found on his delivery routes and the spots he still wants to try out, and Kageyama replies in turn, a few words shared between them. Most of the places are closed by now, but there are still enough people milling about that it doesn’t feel like they’re out of place.

They reach the housing district eventually, all the windows covered with curtains. There are a few windows that have muted light coming from them, but most of the people are asleep.

Shouyou can hear Kageyama make some kind of noise of relief as he directs him to a specific door. Unlocking it, he finds the living room lights are still on.

Shouyou knows that Pedro is different than he is, and his sleep schedule is a little more skewed, but he’s surprised to see his roommate lounging on that horrible couch with his headphones plugged in and phone in hand.

The man’s head turns towards the door when it shuts, and his face brightens slightly upon seeing Shouyou. His eyes shift to find Kageyama, who’s slipping off his shoes and his pullover, and the smile widens to something of a grin. He rises from his spot and comes closer.

_ “Welcome back, Shouyou!” _

Kageyama turns at the phrase, ears likely unused to hearing Shouyou’s name in the middle of another dialect, and Pedro’s eyes widen just a smidge. Pedro gapes at Kageyama for a moment before turning his head back to Shouyou to demand, in Portuguese,  _ “This is your boyfriend?” _

Shouyou attempts to stifle the flush he can feel trying to flood his cheeks.  _ “Yeah,” _ he answers back. Turning to Kageyama, he says, “This is my roommate, Pedro.  _ Pedro, this is Kageyama, my—” _ his breath stutters for a moment  _ “—my boyfriend.” _

Kageyama bows, and Shouyou watches as Pedro’s grin returns.  _ “And you grew up with him?” _

Shouyou only just barely stifles a squawk. Kageyama won’t understand what Pedro is saying, but he doesn’t want to give him a single hint of what this is about.  _ “Sort of, but not really,”  _ he hisses.

_ “You hit the jackpot, Shouyou.” _

_ “Shut it!” _

Pedro only laughs, popping his earbuds back in.  _ “Tell him that I hope he enjoys his stay!” _ he slips back into his room after that, leaving Shouyou to digest the conversation and Kageyama standing with not a single clue of what Pedro’s words meant.

“What was that about?”

“Oh,” Shouyou scrambles for a normal response, “he was just asking if you were the same Kageyama I’ve talked about. Oh! And he also said he hopes you enjoy your stay.”

Kageyama hums, but there’s a glint in his eyes like he knows that’s not the only thing that had been mentioned. He doesn’t push, though, and asks, “Where’s your room? I want to pass out.”

Shouyou blinks before he brightens, grateful for a change in focus. “Just down this way!”

He strides down the hall and opens his door, flamboyantly presenting the room to Kageyama as he steps closer.

“Your bed is tiny,” is the first thing Kageyama says.

“It is not! You just got even taller!”

“Or maybe you’re still small.”

“You’re so mean! Why should I let you take a nap if you’re going to make fun of me and my bed?”

Kageyama’s face twists, like he’s stuck between the two options. Shouyou can tell that the jet lag is really starting to get to him though, so he withdraws.

Shouyou sighs, desperately trying not to sound as overly fond as he feels. “Take a nap, Bakageyama. You can be mean to me after. Idiot.”

He seems to appreciate that suggestion, brow smoothing out, and finally drops his bag to the floor beside his suitcase. Neither of them bothers changing out of the clothes they’re wearing now, Kageyama perfectly content to drop himself onto the mattress and smother his face in the pillow.

“Did you not sleep on the way here at all?”

“Not very much,” Kageyama grumbles, voice muffled. He sounds miffed about it.

Shouyou doesn’t press any further, content to let the man sleep as long as he needs. He wanders off for a moment, settling Kageyama’s things in a corner of the room, making a little bit of space for him.

He nearly yelps when he hears Kageyama ask, “So you speak Portuguese?” His voice is already laced with the promise of sleep.

“I gotta communicate with people somehow, Bakageyama,” Shouyou replies, his own voice pitched low to save Kageyama’s ears from his higher-pitched volume.

“How long did it take you to learn it?” Shouyou smiles—he sounds genuinely curious.

“Pedro helped me a lot. I don’t know how long it took for me to understand the basics though. Portuguese is hard.” He pretends that he doesn’t still struggle with some of the language’s nuances. 

“You always were terrible at English, maybe you just suck with all languages.”

Shouyou squawks, forgetting to keep quiet. “At least I understand both of them now!”

“You’re too loud,” Kageyama tells him, burrowing his face even further into the pillow.

“I was trying to stay quiet for you and then you went and ruined it for yourself!” he whispers in a hiss. But he’s really not annoyed. He can’t be, not when he gets to watch Kageyama raise his arms to the pillow and settle down even more, fluffing it and curling up into it.

He’s always been a bit like a cat, when he’s sleeping, and Shouyou has always enjoyed seeing how he’s going to wake up. Kageyama never liked being caught—and it was always Shouyou doing the catching—but really, he’s quite the snuggler. 

Shouyou knows very well, because most mornings during training camps he was the one pinned beneath a warm arm and tucked close.

(He’d always brushed it off, teasing Kageyama for being so clingy and running away towards the showers when he tried to swipe at him or get a grip on his tangled curls. Now though, he’d love to be close like that again, if not for his heart then for old times.)

He finishes up moving things around, trying to achieve some sense of organization before he returns to the side of his bed. Kageyama’s breathing has long since deepened with sleep.

With a smile, Shouyou sits himself down on the edge of the mattress. Kageyama turned his face out from the pillow in the midst of Shouyou’s shuffling, face slack and relaxed. His brow doesn’t have the same perpetual knot between them and his mouth isn’t twisted into a pout that Shouyou is so used to seeing.

_ Calmgeyama, _ Shouyou thinks fondly. Mindlessly, he reaches a hand forward and brushes part of his hair that had slipped over his eye back into place. He doesn’t really realize that he’s doing it until Kageyama sighs into the space between them. Shouyou only just barely refrains from snatching his hand back into his side.

He doesn’t stop, though. Shouyou leans onto his side until he’s almost laying down, face nearly level with Kageyama’s.

Shouyou supposes that, since they’re going to end up sharing the bed anyway, it’s fine that he lays down, even if Kageyama somehow wakes up while he’s settling down. He doubts it, since Kageyama can be a fairly deep sleeper.

With his head fully rested on the pillow, Shouyou looks at Kageyama again. He doesn’t run his fingers through the man’s hair again, rather contenting himself with just looking. 

Kageyama is unfairly pretty. Shouyou’s not even sure if the man realizes it.

“I missed you,” Shouyou whispers into the space between them, voice barely audible even to himself.

He’s not exactly sure when he dropped off, but when he opens his eyes, the lighting has shifted. 

Shouyou turns—or, attempts to. There’s something heavy keeping him from moving too far. He blinks, looking down towards his waist to find an arm draped over him, comfortable and warm. He swallows as he turns his head back, although he’s well aware of what awaits him if he looks.

Shouyou yips, high and bitten-off.  _ He fell asleep. With Kageyama. In the same bed. _

He didn’t mean for the noise to wake Kageyama up, but the man stirs, a discontented rumble in his throat that he presses into the pillow. One eye opens to look at Shouyou. 

Shouyou expects for there to be some kind of yelling, or maybe Kageyama would shove him away like he did in high school whenever he was caught cuddling Shouyou.

“What the fuck, Hinata,” is all he says. 

“Sorry,” he tells him. He rolls over to look at him properly; Kageyama doesn’t move his arm. “I guess I wasn’t—prepared to see your face.”

Kageyama huffs, shoving his face into the pillow in the same way he had done the night before. “You’re an idiot. I just got here, how did you already forget?”

Shouyou grumbles. Kageyama closes his eyes again, and Shouyou’s just fine with letting him sleep a little bit longer. Except, jet lag has postponed his teasing long enough.

“You know, you aren’t as touchy about being caught cuddling anymore. What gives?”

As expected, Kageyama’s eye snaps open. “Fuck you.”

Shouyou grins before slipping out from beneath the man’s arm. Grabbing his phone from the floor—it must have fallen out of his pocket in the middle of the night—he turns back to Kageyama. “It’s a little bit after noon. I have leftovers from one of the restaurants I talked about last night, if you want that.”

Kageyama hums. “S’fine.”

“Okay,” Shouyou chirps, stepping out of his room towards the kitchen. He doesn’t see Pedro anywhere, so he contents himself with heating up the meat in silence.

Kageyama joins him after a few minutes, one hand in his hair and one fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Shouyou swallows. He’s still pretty after he wakes up. Who allowed Kageyama to be even prettier than Shouyou remembers him being after  _ waking up  _ of all times?

The microwave beeping saves Shouyou from having to come up with something to say.

He divvies up the portions, giving Kageyama the bigger one, and hands him the plate with a fork.

“I hope you’re prepared to meet some friends I’ve made tomorrow,” Shouyou tells him, shoveling meat into his mouth. “Heitor is excited to see how you’ll do on the sand.”

Kageyama hums, his eyes sparkling with the promise of a challenge. “I look forward to it.”

—

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyou says, fingers fiddling with the straps of his drawstring bag. “Can I hold your hand?”

Kageyama makes a noise that sounds frighteningly like a choke. “What?”

“Sorry, that was really sudden. But couples normally hold hands while they walk, right? It’d only make sense.” Shouyou pretends like his heart isn’t threatening to leap right out of his ribcage. He offers his hand, palm up.

Kageyama looks slightly thrown for a loop, a very faint dusting of pink lining his cheeks. Shouyou’s not sure if he’s going to accept the offer or follow through and agree on the reasoning of it, but just as he’s about to drop his hand, Kageyama takes it, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Shouyou’s. “It’s fine,” he mutters, looking away from him entirely.

With a short exhale, Shouyou squeezes Kageyama’s hand reassuringly.

Nearing the beach, he spots Heitor in their usual meeting spot accompanied by Nice. A thrill shoots up his spine.

For a moment, he turns back to Kageyama, eyes scanning his face. He seems nervous, not that it really shows on his face all that much.

See, Kageyama isn’t his real boyfriend, but he still wants his friends to like him. So, as they continue to close the distance between themselves and the beach, Shouyou squeezes his hand again before he lets his own slip from Kageyama’s grip, sprinting over in a burst of energy.  _ “Heitor!” _

The man turns instantly upon hearing Shouyou’s accented Portuguese.  _ “Shouyou! Ah, and I assume this is the boyfriend we’ve heard so much about!” _

Nice smiles at the both of them, standing off to the side of the court.

Shouyou grins, nodding vigorously as he turns to make sure that Kageyama didn’t wander off.  _ “He’s here to fall!” _ He looks back at Kageyama, in a t-shirt and long shorts, and finds the man’s lips twisted in a pout again. Probably because he doesn’t understand what they’re saying.

“Ah, Kageyama-kun,” Shouyou sings, “This is Heitor! He’s my team partner right now.  _ Heitor, this is Kageyama!” _

“Hello,” Kageyama says quietly, awkward and slightly stilted in a way that Shouyou can’t help but find endearing.

“Oh! And Nice is the lovely lady off to the side! Heitor’s girlfriend,” Shouyou adds with a smile.  _ “Nice, are you going to play with us today?” _

Nice sends him a grin.  _ “Sure am! We thought it’d be fun if we did couple versus couple.” _

In theory, Nice is right—it would be fun if they did it that way. But Shouyou remembers that what they are isn’t  _ real. _ At least, not in the same way that other people are seeing it right now.

But Shouyou doesn’t say any of that, instead letting his face split into a matching grin.  _ “That does sound fun!  _ Oi, Yama-yama, we’re gonna play couples against couples!”

Kageyama nods. He stretches his hands and flexes his fingers, just like Shouyou remembers him doing, and strides closer to the other three.

_ “We’ll do rock paper scissors to see who starts with the serve, yeah?” _

_ “Sounds good to me!” _

Shouyou and Kageyama start with the serve. Which is quite perfect, because Shouyou really wants to see Kageyama’s usual serve translated into beach volleyball.

It’s almost exactly the same. The trajectory isn’t as accurate as it would normally be, but it’s got the same strength to it. What the fuck.

“Nice serve, Yama-kun!”

Heitor and Nice return it with a spike to the back end of the court. Shouyou digs it up, a high pass that gives Kageyama time to secure his footing in the sand.

He runs, flies, and—that’s a point.

When Shouyou lands, he can’t help but squeal. “Ahhh, I missed doing that.” He turns to Kageyama. “Your sets have somehow gotten even more precise!”

“Of course they have, idiot.” But Kageyama looks just as giddy as Shouyou feels at pulling off a minus tempo quick like they always used to.

From the other side of the net, Nice and Heitor look at them like they’ve both grown a second head.  _ “How did you—that was so fast—” _

Shouyou beams.  _ “I told you we were good!” _ To Kageyama, he says, “Rio de Janeiro freak quick is a go!”

Kageyama sends him a wild sort of grin that crinkles his face with the sheer force of it. The sight sends a shiver up Shouyou’s spine. God, he’s  _ missed this.  _ The freak duo is back together for a week, and Shouyou can’t wait to see what kind of plays they can pull off.

Needless to say, the two of them win most of the sets they play against Heitor and Nice. Well into the evening, the other couple bid them goodbye, coming down from their adrenaline highs.

Before Shouyou can turn back to Kageyama, Heitor’s hand lands on his shoulder.  _ “You have a good man there, Shouyou.” _

Shouyou blinks. He supposes, if Kageyama really was his boyfriend, people would be telling him things like this. Maybe. He smiles though, looking back towards his fake boyfriend keeping the ball up with small sets.  _ “Yeah,”  _ he agrees, and let’s himself believe it for one blissful second.  _ “I do.” _

_ “Keep him, close, yeah? It’s not every day you see a couple like the two of you.” _

_ “Like the two of us?”  _ Shouyou asks, glancing back at Heitor.  _ “What do you mean?” _

_ “That Kageyama looks at you like you’re the damn sun in his sky, Shouyou,”  _ Heitor replies, a soft smile taking over his features. _ “You look at him like he’s hung all the stars in the sky for you.” _

_ “I—I do?” _

_ “If it’s so hard to believe, then let me just say that you look at each other the same way Nice and I look at each other. Keep him for as long as he’ll have you, Shouyou. You’re both happy.” _

The interaction sticks with him, even as Shouyou returns to Kageyama, wordlessly asking for a pass.

They stay behind for some time after Heitor and Nice leave, the sun beginning to lower. The sky streaks with color, vivid oranges and reds, painting the beach with warmth as Kageyama slips in the sand once again.

“How have you not gotten used to this yet?” Shouyou hollers from his spot several yards away from Kageyama. It wasn’t the worst stumble he’s had, but it was enough to screw up the ball’s path. Shouyou bumps it back without a struggle. “We’ve been at this all day now!”

“Sand isn’t a hardwood floor!” Kageyama snips back, though there’s no real heat behind it. Shouyou can hear the frustration in his voice directed at himself.

“I know that, Bakageyama! That’s part of the reason I took the time to come here.” He catches the next pass that Kageyama hits towards him.

Kageyama’s body relaxes. “It seems like it’s been good,” he says, walking over with stunted steps because of the shifting sand.

Shouyou sighs, stroking his fingers along the stitching of the ball cradled in his palms. “Yeah,” he confirms. He drops down to settle on the beach floor, the sand warm with the last rays of sun beneath him. “It’s been really good.”

“You’ve gotten better at receives,” Kageyama adds. Wordlessly, he sits down beside him.

Shouyou smiles. “Is that a compliment I’m hearing, Kageyama-kun?”

He doesn’t need to look at him to see him rolling his eyes. “Yes, it is, dumbass. You’ve gotten  _ better. _ Don’t be so modest—you know you have.”

Shouyou can’t help but melt at his words. Kageyama learned how to be nicer, to both him and the rest of their teammates, as the years went by. The words always came out a little stunted, syllables misplaced and mixed up, but the effort was there, and that’s all that mattered to Shouyou.

It seems now, grown and flourishing in a place where he can play to the best of his ability, words have been coming easier to him.

To be fair, there were some words that he’d always been able to say without issue that caused Shouyou’s heart to leap into his throat. Some of those words have continued to mean the world to them, even as he himself grows into himself.

(Because he’s here, isn’t he? It makes Shouyou feel all the more invincible.)

He leans into Kageyama’s arm, settling his head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Kageyama. Means a lot when it’s coming from you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Kageyama grumbles back, but he doesn’t shove Shouyou away or demand that they start walking back. His arm just moves to press into Shouyou’s back instead, not completely wrapping around him but a movement too close to be unintentional. 

Shouyou hums, leaning into him further. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Shouyou’s not sure how much more time they spend silently sitting in the sand facing the shore, but he knows he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He sits up, stretching his arms above his head before dragging himself up to his feet. 

“C’mon, let’s head back,” he tells Kageyama, offering a hand that he knows Kageyama doesn’t need. 

He takes it anyway, standing up and dusting his shorts free of sand with his other hand. He doesn’t let go of Shouyou’s.

Neither of them mentions it when Shouyou moves to lace their fingers together like they had done hours before.

Shouyou can’t tell if the trip back to his flat felt shorter because of Kageyama’s hand in his or if he’s just tired, but they’re slipping in through the front door before they know it, taking off their shoes and doing their best to keep from getting any more sand all over the place. 

“You can shower first, Kageyama,” Shouyou says, setting his bag down beside his bed. 

Kageyama hums, stepping over to his suitcase to pick out a sleep shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Down the hall, Shouyou can hear the bathroom door close, leaving him to his own thoughts. 

Nothing about them has really changed, with this fake dating plan, Shouyou thinks as he picks up his own change of clothes. The only thing that  _ has _ changed is the handholding and the gentler touches that don’t turn into roughhousing. 

_ That Kageyama looks at you like you’re the damn sun in his sky. _

Is he? Does Kageyama look at him like that? Heitor hasn’t lied to him, and he certainly wouldn’t lie about something as emotionally important as romance. If Shouyou’s being honest, it’s kind of a lot to take in, because he  _ wants, _ and he wants  _ so badly _ for this to be  _ real. _

He’s so deep in his head that he doesn’t notice when Kageyama comes back in, one hand toweling his hair dry. “Oi, dumbass, your turn.”

With a, thankfully repressed, squeak, Shouyou zips out of the room and into the bathroom. He takes one of the fastest and coldest showers he’s taken in a long while, and is drying himself off in under ten minutes. He doesn’t bother to pull on his shirt yet, just pulling on his sweats and leaving them untied. He drapes his towel around his neck.

_ Don’t fall into it too much. It’s only for the week. It’s not real. _

_ It’s not real. _

When he returns to his bedroom, his eyes land on Kageyama, situated on the bed with his phone cradled between his fingers in his lap. 

_ It’s not real. _

But the domesticity of it all just makes Shouyou  _ feel. _

With a harrumph, Shouyou reaches up and drags his towel over his head and dries his curls vigorously. He shakes his head of any lingering excess and drops the towel on the hook on his door. 

Kageyama hasn’t moved from his spot.

“Sometimes I can’t help but feel like this the same as when we’d share the same space during training camps and tournaments,” Shouyou says aloud, finally tugging his shirt over his head. He absentmindedly reaches a hand up to ruffle his damp curls back into place as he turns back towards Kageyama who’s  _ still _ sitting on the bed, only now he’s watching Shouyou intently.

“It feels the same to me,” he says after a moment. “Only—just different enough. It’s the same but not.”

Shouyou hums. He knows exactly what Kageyama means, even if neither of them know how to say it, exactly. Things have changed,  _ they’ve _ changed. Neither of them are the same people that graduated from Karasuno just a couple years ago. Yet they’re not so different that it feels like things they knew before are obsolete information.

It’s comforting, really, being able to fall back into something that hadn’t been allowed to flourish in the same way that it had once done.

Without much else in conversation, Shouyou slips into his bed, sliding himself towards the wall to give Kageyama space to climb in too.

Once he does, he reaches behind him to turn off the lamp, shrouding them in darkness. There’s a bit more shuffling before the night’s quiet settles over them, nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the space between them. 

Shouyou doesn’t make any move to try to fall asleep, staying on his back and keeping his eyes on the ceiling of the room. He’s not sure what it is that he’s waiting for, but Kageyama’s breath never evens out and slows.

With another short breath, he sighs. “I missed you, you know,” Shouyou admits, not daring to look anywhere but the ceiling.

Kageyama doesn’t seem to react to this, but he turns onto his side, inching ever so slightly closer to Shouyou. When he doesn’t receive a response after that, Shouyou turns his head to look at the man beside him to find his eyes wide open, blue strikingly bright even in the darkness.

“I missed you too,” he says quietly.

Shouyou blinks. He mirrors Kageyama then, pushing himself even closer. “I miss playing with you,” he whispers. “Hitting your sets. Hearing you yell at me for not jumping as high as I could.”

Kageyama blinks back, an exhale brushing against Shouyou’s cheeks faintly. He slips his arm from beneath the covers, hand hovering above Shouyou’s waist hesitantly, like he’s waiting for an answer, a rebuttal. Shouyou doesn’t give one.

Kageyama’s hand settles, warm and heavy, just above his hip. “I missed your stupid grins everytime you made a spike or broke through a team’s blocks. How much you pestered me to practice with you during lunch.”

Shouyou swallows. In turn, he raises his own hand from the mattress by his chest to hold it near Kageyama’s face, mere centimeters from cupping his cheek. Kageyama doesn’t deny him, so he lets his fingers trace his cheekbone lightly before settling his palm snuggly against him.

“I’m glad you got to come out here,” Shouyou murmurs. He feels way too much, fingers only barely holding back from trembling with the force of them all. His chest is tight with the emotion that floods him when Kageyama’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment as his thumb strokes his skin gently. 

“Tobio,” the man tells him quietly, opening his eyes again. Shouyou’s breath hitches. Nothing but conviction shines in them when he searches Kageyama’s eyes, a sureness that he doesn’t always have when it comes to things like this.

But maybe this isn’t something that needs to be hard.

“Tobio,” Shouyou breathes.

“Shouyou,” he says back, voice pitched low, special almost like he’s sharing a secret. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Shouyou isn’t exactly sure.

The only thing he’s sure about is the weight of Tobio’s arm when they pull each other close for the night. Shouyou falls asleep with his face nuzzled into the crook of Tobio’s neck, warm and content and overwhelmingly  _ happy. _

—

The rest of the week passes by way too fast after that night. The days are spent making up for lost time, set after set spiked into the sand and races down the shoreline for no reason other than to run.

Tobio’s presence has attracted quite a handful of spectators, whispers passing between them as they watch this player that, even though he fumbles on the sand a little bit, can keep up with Ninja Shouyou. Shouyou takes a kind of pride in this, heart skipping a beat.

They’ve always been a good pair. It’s nice having Rio recognize Tobio like Japan had done when they were in high school. 

They spend more time on the beach than anywhere else, the weather too nice to waste it inside, but when the sun sets, painting the skies in blazing reds and oranges, they make their way back to Shouyou’s apartment. Pedro bids them goodnight after dinner, leaving them to themselves.

Tobio’s gotten… softer, at night, when it’s just the two of them. Behind the door of Shouyou’s bedroom, he’s quiet, every movement indulgent as they lay down together and whisper about nothing and everything. Maybe it’s the lack of eyes on them that makes him feel like he can do it, pull Shouyou close and run his fingers through his hair when he tries to blow it out of his eyes himself. 

Shouyou doesn’t mention it. Tobio doesn’t either.

No one has really brought up the fact that they’re “dating,” not since the first couple days that Tobio had been there. There wasn’t really an  _ act _ that they’d had to push forward that said  _ Hey look, we’re boyfriends! Believe us! _

It just…  _ was. _ They didn’t have to try.

Maybe Shouyou should have realized sooner.

He doesn’t say anything about how fake any of this plan is until the day of his flight. Tobio’s things are packed up and ready to go, and Shouyou can’t help but feel like he’s running out of time.

(Probably because he  _ is. _

He wishes he wasn’t. He wishes he could do this without the weight of time pressing down on his shoulders.)

Shouyou knows he doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to Tobio, not like he already had to do before he first left for Brazil. 

“Are you ready?”

Shouyou’s head snaps up to find Tobio fixing his jacket on his shoulders, form standing in the doorway.

He nods. 

(He doesn’t want to let him go.)

“Then let’s get going,” Tobio tells him.

It’s subdued, the way he says it. His eyes read more than Shouyou could ever hope to name, but he knows reluctance when he sees it. He saw it in his own face this morning when he faced himself in the bathroom mirror.

(Maybe he doesn’t have to let him go.)

The trip to the airport is painfully short. Tobio’s flight isn’t supposed to lift off for another half an hour, but they both know it’s better to be early for things like this.

It only makes this a little harder.

Really, all the moments they shared over the week don’t say anything that confirms what Shouyou wants to see. What he wants to have could truly have been what they’d said it would be: an act.

Shouyou hates every step that they take towards security because it’s just pushing them closer to the end.

“This—” Shouyou clears his throat. “This is it,” he finishes. 

Tobio nods, slipping his phone into his pocket and resituating his bag on his back. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“Thank you,” he tells him, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering, “for coming out here. For going along with my stupid plan.”

Tobio nods again. “It was fun,” he says, eyes tracing Shouyou’s face almost like he’s searching for something. He doesn’t seem to find it, his brow lowering into an expression that Shouyou doesn’t have an explanation for. He’s not sure he’s seen this look before.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

So Shouyou closes the distance between them in one stride and throws his arms around Tobio’s middle. “I’m going to miss you,” he mumbles, face buried in the man’s chest. Shouyou shudders out a breath when he feels Tobio’s arms wrap around him, one of his hands cupping the back of his head and fingers threading through his curls.

“I’ll miss you too, idiot,” Tobio whispers, head tilted down.

They stand in the embrace for several minutes that are eons too short. It doesn’t feel like Tobio wants to let go anytime soon either, so Shouyou pulls back for the both of them.  _ God he’s dumb, he wants to keep him. _

Tobio doesn’t say anything more, turning to begin his walk through the airport towards his flight. He’s walking away,  _ he’s walking away, stop him before you miss your chance— _

_ “Wait.” _ Shouyou catches one of Tobio’s hands in both of his, unwilling to let him go. He can’t go back to normal without finding out. He needs to know. He  _ wants _ so badly.

“What if I…” Shouyou swallows, grip on Tobio’s hand tightening. He can’t keep his gaze trained on him, not this time, so he looks away from Tobio’s piercing blue eyes, down at their conjoined hands; his skin much tanner than Tobio’s, now. Tobio squeezes his hands in his large one, and Shouyou relaxes a little bit. “What if I don’t want this to end after you’re gone? What if I don’t want to go back to the way we were?”

He doesn’t look back up to gauge Tobio’s reaction, what his face twists into.

Shouyou starts to panic that maybe he overstepped his bounds, that he read too much into the interactions they’d shared together for the past week. It already hurts too much that he has to say goodbye to Tobio, but if this ultimately makes him hate Shouyou, Shouyou thinks that that’s so much worse.

Because then Tobio wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He’d move on, glossing over the fact that Shouyou ever had feelings for him. Move on from Shouyou. Would continue to play in the major leagues without a care in the world. 

Shouyou purses his lips, pushing back against the tears that threaten to build up against his lashes.  _ He might’ve just made the worst mistake in his life. _

Then Tobio’s free hand cups his cheek.

Shouyou startles. He looks up slowly, eyes peering through his eyelashes and curls alike, and finds those blue ones he loves so much, and they’re not angry like he was afraid they might be. If anything, they’re softer than Shouyou thinks he’s ever seen them.

“I don’t want this to end either,” Tobio says, tilting Shouyou’s face up with a touch so gentle and so contradictory to the roughhousing they’re prone to falling into that it makes Shouyou fall a little bit more in love with him. His hand is so large and warm it engulfs the right side of Shouyou’s face.

“You—you don’t?”

“No.”

“Then…” Shouyou swallows, nuzzling into Tobio’s palm. “What do you want this to be?”

This seems to give Tobio pause for a moment, like he’s tasting the words on his tongue before he says them. Shouyou supposes he’s always been like that, when he wants to be taken seriously.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he settles on, voice steady and sure.

Shouyou slips one of his hands out of Tobio’s grip and cups it around the one against his cheek. “So you wouldn’t mind,” he begins, inching forward and up, nose so so close to Tobio’s, “if I did something like this?”

Tobio’s eyelashes flutter slightly when Shouyou strokes their noses together softly, lips but a hairsbreadth apart from each other. Shouyou lets his eyes roam down to Tobio’s mouth, the man’s lips slightly parted, breath warm along his face. When he looks back up, Tobio’s eyes are half-lidded and soft, the blue of them calm and gentle like the sky on a clear spring’s day.

“Like what, dumbass?” Tobio asks in a whisper.

Shouyou huffs a laugh.  _ Impatient. _

Without wasting another moment, Shouyou closes the distance, lips meeting lips in a press that feels like coming home. It’s not the smoothest kiss he’s ever had, he’ll admit, but he can’t be upset about it, not when the reason for that are the smiles that spread across their faces. Shouyou hums as Tobio strokes his thumb down the apple of his cheek.

After a few more seconds, Shouyou pulls back, scanning Tobio’s features. The man’s eyes are still closed, long, dark eyelashes casting shadows along his cheekbones; he notes that there’s a handsome kind of flush coloring his skin.

Shouyou grins when Tobio opens his eyes once more, a thousand things lined up beneath them, but he can recognize every single one.

Tobio leans forward to rest their foreheads together, the tips of their noses nearly touching. 

Shouyou giggles. “Hi.” 

The smile that graces Tobio’s face is one of the softest he thinks he’s ever seen. “‘Hi’ yourself,” he murmurs back, nudging his nose into Shouyou’s for another small kiss.

Shouyou thinks it somewhat silly that what finally brought them together was something that was meant to be pretend, but he can’t say that he minds. Not when Tobio’s breath brushing against his cheeks and his hands wrapped around Shouyou’s are a promise.

A promise that he’s not far away, even if he’s across the world.

**Author's Note:**

> it was actually super super fun to write a fake dating fic!! i've never had the excuse to so thanks to wormydeen for submitting it as a prompt! :D
> 
> and of course, a big thanks to the mods for hosting this! it was a lot of fun!
> 
> leave a comment! they fuel me just as much as spite does <3


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